


Fix-it Felix

by 01189998819991197253



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Clones, Dogs, Family, Gen, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:28:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2802815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/01189998819991197253/pseuds/01189998819991197253
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day Felix will answer the phone and it won't be a clonemergency. Today is not that day. (Although he and Alison will forever have a differing definition of what exactly entails a disaster.) Oh, well. Felix to the rescue, once again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fix-it Felix

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sevendeadlyfun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevendeadlyfun/gifts).



> Thank you to the F-FA nonnie who helped me with a last-minute plot fix: you saved my sanity. (Apparently I'm not good at disguising my fandom, though. Alas.)
> 
> Sevendeadlyfun - I only knew Orphan Black out of your requests and while I love Felix I've never tried my hand at him, so I hope you like it! Happy holidays! :)

"Felix, I need you," Alison says as soon as Felix hits connect.

"One of these days," Felix says, balancing the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he starts to wiggle into his tightest pants, "one of you lot is going to bother with some nice mindless phatic communion."

"I didn't know you were religious," Alison says, her voice terse and clipped.

" _Phatic_ communion, not that bread and wine shtick. It means all that polite rotting small talk people like to hear occasionally. _Hello,_ Felix. How _are_ you, Felix? Having a nice day, Felix? As a matter of fact I'm having a stellar day, thanks for asking. Morning of fuck all and my favorite client for an hour in the afternoon and a nice evening planned of absolutely fuck all." Felix beams across at Teddy, sprawled inelegantly across his blankets. Teddy scratches his belly and smiles back, lethargic and satisfied.

"Hello, Felix, how are you, Felix, having a—" Alison's monotone repetition cuts off midway. "A client? A rich one? Are you going to have a gallery showing?"

Felix's grin widened lazily. "A client, he's kind of skint most of the time, and not _that_ kind of client."

"Oh," Alison says, and then, faux-appalled, " _Oh._ Are you— are you _prostituting_? While I'm on the phone with you?" She makes a whistling sound through her teeth, the one Felix is quickly able to identify her as her losing her cool. Alison, bless her soccer mom heart, doesn't _have_ a lot of cool to start with, and has, in Felix's opinion, spent most of it on the contents of her underwear drawer. So it's pretty easy for her to lose the fragments of cool she has left. "Felix, my kids are in the house."

"And I'm on the other side of town. The deliciously seedy part of town. Absolutely nowhere near any kids. What, are they going to hear my naked arse all the way over there? Will the slap of my naked butt cheeks be a bad influence?" Felix twists like a cat to get a good glimpse of his own pert rear. "'cause I gotta say, they could probably do with a little bit of bad influence. They're a bit uptight, like their mom."

"I'm not uptight," Alison hisses through clenched teeth. "Or down tight or any kind of tight."

"Keep telling yourself that, darling," Felix says.

"I'm loose. Positively _loose,_ " Alison says, her voice pitching higher. "Ask Donny sometimes. Behind a closed door, I am an _animal_ in the sheets."

" _Mom's an animal!"_ one of the kids shrieks in the background of the call.

"What's the clonemergency today?" Felix asks, after he's managed to stop laughing. Behind him, Teddy's head tilts slowly. Felix hides the comical wince he wants to make and covers up his receiver to mouth, "One of Sarah's friends. It's an allegory for problem with her lady parts," at his client. Teddy makes a comical wince large enough for both of them.

"It's not a— It's just a _situation,_ " Alison says. "And I find it very hard to reach out and ask for help—"

Felix snorts a little too loudly.

"I find it _very difficult_ to ask for assistance, as a self-sufficient mom of two," Alison continues, a knife edge to her voice that makes Felix want to cover his testicles, "so I would hope you would respond decently to my plea for help seeing as it's make a severe dent in my self-esteem. Now are you coming over or not?"

"One sec before I answer," Felix says, swatting at an uncomfortable cold sensation on his neck. Feeling back with his fingertips, he squints over at Teddy who's blinking up at him innocently. "Oy, cuddles, what did I say about getting spunk in my hair?"

Teddy blinks, perennially post-coitally slow. He opens his mouth to say something.

"It absolutely turns me on, you filthy bastard," Felix finishes, winking at Teddy lewdly. "Now I'm gonna be walking around with a half chub for the rest of the day. Cheers." Teddy grumbles happily and reaches for his underwear.

"You better have taken care of it by the time you get here," Alison says, instantly.

"Oy, when did I reply and say I was coming?" Felix says, and before she can start making high pitch sounds of protest, takes pity on her, "I am, by the way. But assumptions are the mother of all fuck-ups, y'know." He smiles indulgently. It's not Alison's fault she was deprived of a good dose of Felix Dawkins in his childhood. Sarah got _more_ than a good dose, and while she has her failclone moments, Felix is terrifyingly proud of her independence and spunk.  Ugh, speaking _of,_ Felix dabs at his hair, sighing. Well, it's probably cheaper than hair gel.

"Take care of the situation in your pants before you do," Alison says. "I can't have anyone from the neighborhood thinking—"

"—that anyone in your zip code ever has anything resembling a good time?" Felix snits. "Nah, can't be having that, can we?"

Alison humphs. "Just come already."                         

"Mm, dirty talk like that normally costs me five smackeroos a minute," Felix says, slipping off the bed and kissing Teddy on the back of his hand. "Dom me some more, baby. Haven't had a girl talk me to orgasm in a decade. And a strange girl she was too. Big hands. And an awfully large adam's apple."

"Girls don't—" Alison starts, primly, and then sighs as Felix starts cackling. "You're hilarious," she deadpans.

"Something _I_ normally charge five a minute for." Felix smacks Teddy on the ass as his client ambles off towards the bathroom.

"Be serious. I've got a— a complete _disaster_ happening here," Alison says, and then, gentler, "I _need_ you."

Felix opens his mouth but suppresses the probably smart and sassy comment his brain is going to provide, because there's something almost vulnerable in her tone, and it reminds him of the stunning similarity between the clones. And not in their appearance. All of them have the same determined streak… and the same strong dislike of admitting when they can't do something on their own. "I'll be right there," Felix says and the muted exhale he hears, a sigh of relief, is the validation he's made the right decision. "Well," he amends, "as soon as I've gotten the naked guy out of my apartment."

"Would one of your clients steal from you?" Alison asks, always interested in the seedier elements of Felix's lifestyle despite her often-vocal dislike.

"No, but Teddy likes to sit on things butt naked if I'm not here to remind him," Felix says. He considers. "Now I think of it, _you've_ sat on most of the places where he's rested his large, meaty, sweaty balls..."

"Oh, god, I need to burn anything I've ever worn in your apartment," Alison says weakly.

#

Alison yanks her back door open like it's somehow personally offended her.

"Okay, be quick," Felix says, instead of hello, because Felix at least knows not to give what he's never going to get. "I've got plans for the night."

"I thought you said you had a night planned of absolutely fuck all," Alison says, too annoyed to remember she wanted to shoo him into the house quickly. She looks _frazzled,_ tiny hairs escaping from her wide elasticized headband, her lipstick a little worn. Maybe Alison's right and there's something akin to a disaster going on. Felix girds his loins, or straightens his shoulders a little, whatever, and peers around her into the house behind to scope out what the disaster might be.

"Yup," Felix says, rocking back on the balls of his feet, "and very important fuck all it was going to be indeed. Emphasis on the _all._ "

Alison does that almost cross-eyed thing that Felix likes a lot, mostly because it's an expression he's only managed to coax from Sarah once — after he convinced her that 90% proof vodka tasted just like water — and once alone. He can coax it from Alison at least twice per encounter, if he's very good.

Felix is rarely very good, he's been on Santa's shit list since he was eight for pantsing Mrs. Henderson in the Shoppers Drug Mart. Or maybe it was when he and Sarah flushed Mrs. S's birth prevention medication down the toilet. Or that time with Andy Francis behind the gym block, back when Felix was barely old enough to even know what his dick was for. Still, he can at least wring the expression from Alison at least _once_ if he tries hard.

The fact that hasn't even made much effort at all to receive the prize of the expression means that maybe Alison's disaster is an actual, _genuine_ disaster.

"The disaster—" Alison starts.

"You don't even have to tell me," Felix says, walking confidently into her house, and Alison backs up, letting him in. He tugs off his coat and scarf and throws it haphazardly onto the nearest chair, knowing it's just going to make Alison twitch.

Alison tilts her head at Felix's confidence instead; it's only a small movement, but from her that's as big a response as one of Cosima's insistent hand gestures or Sarah's quick kicks and whole body shoves.

" _This,_ " Felix says, tugging at a monstrosity of fabric hanging from the nearest door. "Seriously a disaster if you think this cut is going to do anything for your legs, darling. Pencil skirts are not just last season, they're a crime on someone with your measurements."

Alison makes a strangled noise. "That's my lucky skirt. I've had some great _successes_ with that skirt. And my legs look perfectly _fine_ in that skirt, it's— you're messing with me again."

Felix beams widely, a _how did you guess_ expression.

"Fine," Alison sighs. "I asked you here for a reason. And I suppose I should show you that reason."

Felix nods at her to get on with it. Alison looks indecisive for a moment, but then sighs and heads for her craft room.

"Did you tie your hubby up again?" Felix asks. "Because I'm not gonna be backwards, that glue gun torture was kind of hot. I might have to rip all your clothes off."

Alison quirks an indulgent look at him. Felix resents that she sees right through the threat. He _could_ quite happily strip Alison Hendrix naked. Then his _next_ step would probably be burning the clothes she was wearing and getting her into some decent gear. Other people would probably think of something else to do with a naked Alison. A naked Alison probably did quite well with deciding what to do on her own.

Well, if Felix _had_ still been sporting the semi that Teddy's enthusiasm had given him, it would be gone now.

"Donny's at a conference," Alison says, reaching for the door handle.

"If your whole disaster is the fact that you dropped a bottle of glitter—" Felix warns, but then all words escape him temporarily as Alison opens the door. And _the most adorable sight of all time meets his gaze._

"I'm in love, I'm in love," Felix sings, pushing past Alison and sliding down onto the floor, pulling two of the nearest puppies onto his lap. There are about five of the beautiful things, rolling around, yipping and generally chewing on anything of Alison's they can reach in the small room. Felix is definitely in love, no lie. Anyone else would probably think they're ugly as fuck, because their little faces are squished in, and they look like they're a combination of at least five different dog breeds. He watches as one of them deliberately poops just to the left of the litter tray that Alison's set up.

Yep, love. True, beautiful love.

"The kids found them," Alison says, watching from the doorway as Felix gets his snuggle on with them. "You're very welcome to them."

"Me? With dogs? You're having a laugh," Felix says. He glances up when Alison doesn't respond. "No, I'm sorry, Ali. I can't do dogs. I wouldn't— Some of the people in my life— I'd trust them with me, but with a dog around— More than one—" He looks down ruefully at the squirming pile of cuteness in his lap and running around him, yipping happily. "Plus I never know with all this… _stuff_ … whether I'm gonna have to run with Sarah into the shining horizon. I couldn't take on an animal. No matter how cute they are." He looks mournfully down at the squirming animals. Petting them is a little less fun now. "So where did the kids find them?"

Alison shrugs. "They won't tell me. They were hoping I'd never found out. Apparently they had them in their rooms for a week, but sold them to their classmates yesterday when they realized they couldn't keep them."

"How many dogs did they start _off_ with, to have this many left?" Felix reluctantly climbs up to his feet, because if he stays down there any longer he'll not be able to leave them behind, and even though he was unclear before, he's still right - he can't take them. Felix is loyal and loving and fierce to an extreme point, but he's also poignantly self-aware of his deficiencies. He never pays his bills on time. Sometimes he paints (naked) for so long that he can lose entire sequences of days without eating or sleeping. He stores his bills in his vegetable crisper. Responsibility isn't exactly his forte.

"Six," Alison says.

"Well, someone needs to develop their entrepreneurial skills."

Alison gives him a sharp, sour look as he helps her usher the dogs back so she can close the door. "They sold all of them, thank you very much. Trouble is… everyone around here knows me. So as soon as the little brats spilled to their parents where they got them, they've been bringing them _back._ "

Felix wrinkles his nose. "You need help, then."

"Hence why I called _you._ "

"Mm, my first impulse is to keep them and train them into a Vegas act," Felix says. "You may have called the wrong person."

"I thought maybe you might _know_ someone," Alison says.

Felix thinks about it. Even with his diverse spread of clients, or is that _especially_ because of them? He's drawing a blank. His life for the last few months has been so clone-focused that all he knows are carbon-copies of his sister. "We have clonephone options," Felix says, slowly.

Alison shudders. "That rhyme disturbs me."

"What, that I haven't come up with it before now? I'm disturbed too." Felix tilts his head. "Not Sarah. She and animals… let's just say it's not a good mix. Pure Freddy the hamster. May he rest in peace."

"Cosima has a soft heart," Alison says, consideringly.

"She's tied up," Felix says. "Alas, not by her foxy French maybe-girlfriend. Metaphorically. Kira found a cure to her illness in a storybook. I _told_ Sarah K was a Disney princess and now, voila, proof. How many times do you think I can get away with saying _I told you so_?"

"Even if we knew where Helena had wandered off to, I'd hesitate."

"Because of how handy she is with a blade?"

"More that she might straight out eat them," Alison says.

"Rachel would turn them into a coat," Felix sighs.

"They're mongrels, not dalmatians."

"Yeah, but she'd make spots somehow. Probably holes, with her killer stiletto heels." Felix hums. "Why can't they stay here?"

"Well," Alison says slowly, "there's a body buried in the garage and the dogs kept smelling it out and trying to dig it up."

Felix looks up at her, sizing up her stubborn chin tilt and dark expression and he shakes his head. "You're a bloody laugh a minute, you are."

"Donny's allergic," Alison says.

Felix is quiet. "Local pound?" he asks, his voice a little soft and sad as one of the dogs whimpers from behind the door. "I know in an ideal world we could do so many grand things. Throw a party, host a musical, whip up some media support, but… with things how they are around here, with Cosima's thing hanging over all of you…" He smiles sadly at Alison. "Sometimes we've gotta pick the painful options, to keep you all safe."

Some of the fight sags out of Alison, the tense lines folding into curves. "I was afraid you might say what I was thinking," she sighs. "I'll get the phonebook."

"Or you could Google it?"

Alison shakes her head as she heads to a side-table, pulling the drawer open. "I punished the kids by taking the modem out, forgetting it would kill _my_ internet access too," she explains, pulling the large book out. "Normally I'm more on top of my punishments."

"I bet you are," Felix says, leaning against the back of her sofa, watching her try and fail to open the plastic on the phonebook. He straightens and heads for the kitchen, coming back with something helpful. "Here."

Alison eyeballs the steak knife but takes it with frightening efficiency. Felix takes a comical step back which Alison narrows her eyes at, and Felix is glad when the doorbell goes to have an excuse to move out of reach of the blade.

"Don't answer that—" Alison starts, but it's too late. Felix opens the door wide — and gets a dog shoved into his arms for his trouble. He stumbles back, grasping onto the puppy, its smushed-looking face pushing up against his with a whimpering sound.

Felix peers around the puppy to see a red-faced man standing in the doorway, his shoulders bunched.

"Alison Hendrix?" The guy yells. When Alison tentatively nods, he points at her. "Hey, you, your little _brats_ tried to sell my daughter this beast. You owe my kid ten dollars and that's just for a start."

"I'm sure there's been some huge misunderstanding here," Alison starts, smoothly affecting a pleasant, plastic, fake expression, the mask of the role she played every day. "Why don't we—"

"Misunderstanding, not a chance in hell," the guy starts, "that little shit pissed in my _house_ —"

"Oy, mate," Felix yells, "hop off my sister's dick for a second and let her talk, why don't you?" He eyeballs the guy. "Or is it _my_ dick you're more likely to hop on, eh? 'cuz I gotta say, so far, you're not my type, love." The guy turns to Felix, fists clenching into balls. Ah, crap. Well, Felix isn't inexperienced when it comes to fist fights. Well, mostly he runs from them screaming higher than when Sarah found the tarantula Felix hid in her sleeping bag on her twelfth birthday. While Felix knows his best asset is his pert and very fine ass, his _second_ -best is probably his runner legs. And his killer eyes and smile combo, _obviously._

"That little dirtbag pissed in my wife's shoes. Her four hundred freaking dollar heels. They're irreversibly ruined, all because your little snotrags thought it would be—"

"Excuse you one second!" Alison says, eyes burning and voice clear. She's projecting very well. Felix's drama coaching is paying off dividends. "My _kids_ are not snotrags. I am not responsible for how gullible _your_ kids are, buying dogs off a street corner! And your _wife_ , whom I assume is Miranda Bentley by her constant weary tales of her husband's eternally dirty and ugly tassel shoes and unsatisfyingly small penis,  doesn't own a single pair of shoes worth more than fifty dollars. It was _my_ Chanel Le Vernis dragon-shade polish that she ' _borrowed_ ' to give those cheap Nine West heels a terrible makeover, borrowed and never returned, by the way. So if anyone here is owed a damn thing, it's _me._ Now I have the dog, your genitalia is still intact if woefully small, so why don't you scuttle on home to your wife and leave before I forget this knife is for beef meat _only._ "

The guy — Bentley — blinks a couple of times, before edging a look over at Felix. Felix blows him a kiss and Bentley makes a huffing noise. "They let any riff-raff live in this neigborhood nowadays," he mutters, but backs off, skulking down the front path and muttering under his breath.

"My rates are two hundred per act," Felix calls loudly after him, spying a woman watching from a street corner with cheap shoes, hopefully the man's wife. "More if you want to skip the condom."

" _Felix,_ " Alison says, trying to chastise him, but looking much too amused to maintain that façade. When he closes the door, she tries to resist being charmed by Felix's rakish grin, but only holds out for a few seconds. "You're a very naughty man," she says, taking the dog from his arms and introducing him into the craft room with the others.

Felix winces as the door closes and seconds later there's an extra loud crash and what sounds like a thousand sequins crashing to the floor. Alison just sighs and edges looks at the door, like she's itching to be in there so she can sort them into colors alphabetically.

"Well, I guess that was dog number six," Felix says.

"Guess so," Alison says. She looks down at her hands for a moment and that indecisive motion is enough to stop Felix from saying something else. He gives her the time she needs to be Alison again. To be brave again. She lifts her face and looks at him. "You didn't have to say that to him, you know."

"I know," Felix says. "Sarah's told me time and again to stop baiting closeted married men, but I can't help myself."

"Not _that_ bit," Alison says. "Well, maybe that bit. The other bit."

"Your usual clarity is a little bit missing, love."

Alison eyeballs him. "Calling me your sister."

Felix folds his arms. "Oh, lowering your class level down a bit, was I?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Alison says. "Anyone would be proud to be your—" She swallows hard, looks away, and shuffles, before looking back at him. "I'd be so happy if I was."

"Are you just being a sap case 'cause it's nearly Christmas?" Felix says. "Because I don't care, gimme a hug." He moves forwards and yanks her into a hug before she has chance to protest. "You're a dummy, Alison Hendrix. You _are_ my sister."

" _Sarah's_ your sister. I'm just a photocopy."

"There's no _world_ you're a photocopy of anyone," Felix says. "But genetically, yeah, there's some matching DNA. Which makes _you_ my sister too. All the clones are my sisters now. Which is.. which is pretty disturbing. I mean, Helena. But she has moves! And a healthy appetite. But Rachel… Well, she has style. Of course, this all makes Toby my brother, but incest wouldn't be the _worst_ thing I've ever done—"

"What?"

"Cosima's pretty cool, though. And smart. She makes up for your defects for sure," Felix muses. Alison slaps at his arm for the insult. He pulls back to arm length, smiling at her. "We are clearly the _coolest_ of the siblings, though. Even though _your_ life has apparently gone to the dogs."

Alison rolls her eyes. "What do we do next?"

Felix points up at the ceiling. "Find out exactly where the dogs came from, directly from the source."

Alison sighs. "They wouldn't tell me." She looks at Felix. "But maybe they'll tell their Uncle Felix?"

She smiles, shyly. Felix returns the smile happily. "Uncle Felix. I like the sound of that." He pauses at the bottom of the stairs. "Do you think we could throw in some other titles? Uncle Glitter-King Felix? Unicorn Princess Uncle Felix?"

"Uncle Bighead Felix?" Alison suggests. "Uncle Last-Year's-Hairstyle Felix?"

"You can go off some people, y'know," Felix calls back. Alison's laugh follows behind him as he goes to interrogate the kids.

There are some major cons to his new clone-conspiracy filled life which make Felix want to flee, to escape to somewhere hot and sexy and anonymous. Felix could do without the men with guns, the genetic flaws in the clones' DNA, the  crazy cults and the insane clones too handy with a weapon. And his love life might _finally_ gain some traction if he wasn't always being pulled hither and thither to fix whatever new clone disaster was occurring on any given new day. But… there are definitely some pros, too. And the pros are worth a lifetime of fixing disasters for his sisters.

 _More_ than worth it.


End file.
